


Morning sun

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, Happy Husbands, In Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 12:39:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19830412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	Morning sun

There is rarely any opportunity these days to catch either of them alone. Potted plants and dusty Queen records scattered all over Aziraphale’s place are a good indicator of just how intertwined their lives have recently become.

It doesn’t matter whether they are taking an early morning stroll down St. James park or whether they are simply enjoying their usual serving at the Ritz. As long as the other one is right there, laughing and talking, they love every minute of it.

Aziraphale wakes up with a smile on his face.

Well, he doesn’t actually wake up, wake up.

He just has to cut his self-induced dreamy slumber short.

Crowley is lying sprawled on his belly right next to him. His head is tilted towards Aziraphale and he’s actually snoring. Aziraphale’s heart melts a little at the sight.

He stands up and stretches.

“Why do you always do that?”

Aziraphale blinks in surprise and finds Crowley looking back at him with sleepy eyes.

“You are an angel. You don’t need to stretch.”

“I…don’t know. I guess it’s just another human thing that I find endearing.”

Crowley’s lips turn into a smile.

“Adorable.”

“Oh, stop it.”

Crowley’s smile only grows as he turns on his back to have a proper look at Aziraphale’s blush.

Before Aziraphale can stop himself, he leans over and kisses the stupid grin off his face.

“Morning to you too,” Crowley hums contently.

He smells like the pine trees in blazing summer, like the thick air hovering above the sea surface.

Crowley snakes his arms around his waist and pulls him closer.

There’s things that need to be done, some angelic duties to tend to, but Aziraphale can’t remember anymore. Not when Crowley is right there to tend to.


End file.
